


immolate

by Lightningpelt



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Mythology, F/M, ben still burns down luke's temple in this one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27115819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lightningpelt/pseuds/Lightningpelt
Summary: Rey never put any stock into the worship of Ren—as far as she's concerned, her own hard work keeps food on the table, not the favor of some local volcano god. And when a fissure in the ground swallows up her house, she's inclined to think it's less god's wrath and more just dismal luck.When a stranger, Ben, drags himself out of that fissure, coughing and with live embers in his hair, she's not entirely sure what to believe.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 14
Kudos: 66
Collections: To Rapture the Earth and the Seas: the 2020 Reylo Fanfiction Anthology





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So honored to be a part of this anthology!! A huge thanks to all the mods for their tremendous work putting all this together.  
> Chapters will be posted daily~ I hope you all enjoy reading! 
> 
> Moodboard by Mod Alexandra (politicalmamaduck on tumblr)
> 
> Fic playlist: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/6INdFvUemGICasMbkCSwdG?si=9PBAaeqQQcacWMwBcqpZcA

Niima was idyllic, though less so for her.

Stories stretched back for generations about Niima as a miserable, barren village, but no one living had any recollection of that. Verdant life covered the hills, consisting of both natural flora and cultivated farmland. Human and animal life, too, flourished. At the center of it all smoldered Ren, the volcano that had transformed Niima into the fertile paradise it was.

There were records of violent eruptions from generations past, but Niima’s people didn’t fear that sort of fate. Though Ren could be a force of great destruction, that was only a concern if he wasn’t properly appeased. Ren gave Niima’s inhabitants a prosperous life, and so they returned to Ren a portion of the bounty. Crops and livestock were marched up the mountain and tossed into its smoldering maw; young men and maidens alike dedicated their lives as clergy. The villagers held festivals, and practiced daily morning and evening rituals in the volcano’s name. As Ren gave Niima life, Niima’s life revolved around Ren.

That was the paradise Rey of Nowhere sought. Rey had journeyed across the vast Jakku desert that bordered Niima, drawn by the promise of something other than endless sand and chronic hunger. The trip had taken years, during which she’d survived as a feral, godless creature. She’d scavenged, picking bits of meat from carrion and what remained of less fortunate travelers; she’d gutted desert plans for the water they cached so jealously. There were days, sometimes weeks, when she didn’t utter a word—it was a waste of energy. There were times when she thought human speech was lost to her entirely, and was unbothered by it.

Niima, she had thought, would be worth it, if she could only get there. 

... ... ...

“Heathen! Ingrate!”

Rey drew back her lip, half-raising her staff in warning. If the scornful words hadn’t come from a child, she might have picked the fight. As it was, the youngster scurried back behind his mother’s long skirts, sufficiently deterred by the threat alone. The mother glared, but strutted past Rey without speaking.

“The kid’s not wrong, you know,” said the trader whose stall she stood before. Rey rounded, indignant, but had no real argument. “You’re lucky I still do business with you.”

Rey scowled, but remained silent as he assessed her goods: fish, wild-grown berries, small woodland game. He glanced up; eyed her, as she stared off into the marketplace.

“You didn’t make any alms, did you?” he asked.

Rey scoffed. “You know I didn’t.”

The trader tutted softly. “I’ll give you thirteen for the lot.”

Rey’s focus snapped back to him in earnest. “Excuse me?”

“I’ll have to take alms out, since you didn’t,” the trader said, sounding apologetic in an obligatory sort of way. “I’m rolling that loss into your price.”

“You can’t be serious,” Rey said, starting to pull the string of fish back towards her. The trader caught it by the other end; held it.

“You try selling your wares to anyone else,” he said, his voice low. “They won’t even talk to you, let alone offer you as much as that.” 

Rey bore her teeth, fuming, but again she had no argument. Eventually, after just long enough to feel like she wasn’t folding, she let go of the fish.

“Thirteen, then,” she agreed, and money changed hands. Had she suspected the trader was lying about taking a loss for alms, cheating her with his lowball price, Rey would certainly have fought him. But that was Niima’s bizarre truth: he wasn’t lying. He would dutifully tithe a portion of her wares, since she hadn’t fulfilled her obligation to do so. Part of that food, food that should be used to sustain life, would instead be cast into a volcano. It made Rey’s blood burn as hot as Ren’s supposedly sacred lava.

Rey walked briskly through the village, distancing herself as quickly as was reasonable from its fanatical inhabitants. At least she wasn’t hungry—and _she_ was the one who made sure of that, not any volcano god. The volcano made it easier, certainly, but that wasn’t due to any higher power’s great benevolence. It was nature, just like the desert beyond Niima’s borders. Simple as that.

Rey’s house, deep in the lush greenery around Niima’s outskirts, welcomed her back. She had built the structure with her own two hands—it wasn’t as large as any building in Niima proper, and its roof was slightly lopsided, but pride swelled in her every time she saw it. She’d built it—she’d made a place for herself, despite everything. Entering, she left her bag on the table and went to the cabinet. She pulled out soft bread from the marketplace and the rest of a meat pie that she’d made that morning, along with an apple from her fruit bowl.

She settled in by her window to eat, comfortable in a small nest of scavenged and sewn fabrics. She doubted she’d ever stop savoring each bite of her meals, but she took particular pleasure in the pie—she was finally getting the hang of using the herbs and spices growing in a planter on her kitchen windowsill. It had taken her long enough, she reflected, to even begin bothering with such things.

There was a sweet air of civilization to her life on the edge of Niima, and it made Rey hum with amused pleasure. The natives could sing to their volcano until their throats were raw—Rey would content herself with good food, clean water, and her comfortable little house.

Then the ground saw fit to move beneath her.

Rey was poised to bite into her apple when she noticed it. The ground began to shift, first slowly and then more dramatically. Rey rose.

“Hell.”

Her roof cracked down the middle as the house's foundation shuddered beneath Rey's feet. She snagged her staff and her bag off the table as she bounded for the door, instinct driving her like wildlife fleeing a natural disaster. She broke into the open, then skidded and turned, looking back to see the fissure—a jagged opening had appeared in the ground, widening beneath her house bit by bit. As she watched, the roof split open to the sky; the walls began to crack, shorn appart by the stress of the cleaving ground. Within the space of a few moments, the whole structure caved, crumbling down into the ever-widening fissure.

The ground stilled. Rey steadied herself, although her breath came harsh and fast. Stunned, she looked at the perfect red apple still clutched in her hand, then back at where her house once stood.

Carefully, she set her bag down and gently placed the apple atop it. Slinging her staff across her back, she crept toward the fissure, wary of aftershocks or another quake. She stepped gingerly over what little remained of her wall, then peered down into the gap.

Smoke billowed up, making her cough and stinging her eyes. Beyond the noxious black, gleaming red lava coursed by, though visible only in brief flashes. Rey waved off the smoke from around her face, though she held no hope of glimpsing anything salvageable within the fissure. 

She swore under her breath. “Stupid volcano!” she hissed, and then fell to a jag of coughing. Backing up, she closed her watering eyes and tried, unsuccessfully, to calm her breathing. “Ah...!”

Waving her hands to ward off the smoke, Rey squinted once again toward the fissure. At first, she thought it must be a shimmering heat-mirage; what she was seeing truly couldn’t be real. But then a second hand joined the first, clutching and clawing at the fissure’s edge, and then a _body_ hauled itself clear. The edge crumbled beneath the figure’s weight, leaving him scrambling, but Rey moved instinctively forward before she could stifle the urge. Ignoring the heat and suffocating ash, she wrapped her arms around the figure’s elbow, pulling him up and away from the unstable fissure. He was heavy—should he slide back towards the lava, Rey knew she’d have to let go or be dragged to her death. She wouldn’t hesitate.

But the man didn’t fall back, and together they scrambled farther from the open chasm. When they cleared the worst of the smoke, Rey let him drop. She sat heavily down, back arched, struggling to catch her breath. The man, on his hands and knees, coughed, hacked, and spat some soot-blackened gunk into the grass. He collapsed onto his side a moment later, still breathing hard. Embers glowed in his thick black hair.

“Why... the _hell_ —?” Rey began, but fell to a coughing jag.

The man twisted to look at her, though still lying on his side. “You have... my thanks...”

Rey scowled—thanks did her no good, not even in so far as answering her questions. She forced herself to her feet, although it made her sway; the stranger made no such attempts at bravado.

“Where did you come from?” Rey asked, hearing the roughness of ash and scalding air in her throat.

The man pointed back toward the fissure, his arm flopping against the ground; he made no further effort.

Rey sighed. She crouched beside him, watching the embers smoldering in his hair. If one of them properly ignited, she thought, that would get him moving.

“Hey,” she said. “Who are you?”

The man grumbled something, his voice muffled by the ground, then coughed fitfully. Rey tried not to roll her eyes.

“Say again?”

He rolled halfway onto his back, eyes closed. Ash smudged his pale skin. He wasn’t much to look at, Rey thought, all things told.

“Ben,” he managed, and Rey’s eyebrows rose.

“Ben? Ben who?”

The man shook his head vaguely. “Just Ben.”

Rey considered that, then said, “I’m Rey. Just Rey.”

Ben coughed, perhaps laughed, half-heartedly, then cracked open his eyes. Rey blinked, startled by their depth even when squinting through ash-crusted lashes. “Just Rey,” he repeated, not mocking or skeptical, simply appraising.

Rey didn’t appreciate being _appraised_.

“Well, even if my house is gone, this is still my land,” she said, standing and brushing herself off. “You’d do well to get going before I chase you off.”

Ben’s eyes widened, dismayed as he struggled to sit up. The embers clinging to him had mostly died, by then. “Your house...?”

“Gone,” Rey repeated, retrieving her pack. She tucked the apple into it. “The fissure took it.”

Ben’s expression darkened. “Damn Uncle Luke,” he muttered, glancing up at the sky. “He wouldn’t care...”

Rey raised an eyebrow, but shouldered her pack. “Go on. Town’s that way—Niima. Or there’s a way larger town about ten kilometers that way, beside a lake—Naboo.”

Ben shook his head. “Can’t go to Naboo. No way. Grandfather would have my head.”

Rey tilted her head. “You have family in Naboo?”

“I’ve got family everywhere,” Ben replied, but frowned. “Not that it does much good.”

Rey didn’t try too hard to figure out the meaning behind his words—clearly she was dealing with a madman. She’d encountered such people on her journey across the desert, and on certain days she’d been such a person. Niima’s religious fervor was also a particularly annoying, if harmless, type of madness.

But this apparent touch of mania stirred Rey’s otherwise dormant sympathy, and she sighed.

“Look,” she said, “if you want, you can help me build a camp for the night. It’s getting late, and I won’t turn down the extra set of hands. I can’t guarantee you supper, though.”

To her surprise, Ben seemed almost insulted. Rey thought she’d just made a magnaminous offer, though she might be biased on the subject.

“Look, it's pretty safe, around here,” she said, and then added, “barring any random _cracks_ in the ground. But you’ll be just fine on your own, if my company doesn’t suit you.”

Ben looked uncertain—and somehow deeply displeased. “No, I’ll stay the night,” he said, in a way that made it seem he’d granted her some wonderful gift.

Rey snorted, unimpressed. “Suit yourself. Let’s go, then. There’s a clearing nearby that’ll do. An outcropping of rock that’ll offer shelter.”

She half expected Ben to not follow her. But he did, and he even kept up.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments on chapter one! ;w; Hoping you all enjoy chapter two~

Ben was a startlingly useless example of a human being. Rey was becoming more and more certain that he was from Niima—he’d never struggled for survival a day in his life, and his pitiful attempts at starting a fire proved that. So too did his temper—after several failed attempts, his foot met the pile of kindling, scattering twigs and dry foliage.

“Can’t even start a simple fire!” he fumed, sounding as exasperated as Rey felt. “Damn that Luke!”

“Luke” seemed to be the primary target of Ben’s anger, although Rey didn’t care enough to ask who that might be. She simply retrieved two hapless wood fowl from the traps she kept planted among the trees, then returned to start the fire herself.

Ben slumped down, seeming defeated and entirely sore. He glowered when she easily got the tinder to flare to life.

“That shrubbery there makes for good bedding,” Rey pointed out, thinking herself laudably helpful. She quickly prepped the small birds for roasting, then spitted them. “That and the overhanging stone will be enough protection, assuming the sky doesn’t decide to dump a bunch of rain on us.”

“I wouldn’t put it past the bastard,” Ben grumbled, then heaved himself up and headed in the direction she’d indicated. Rey watched him; thought bitterly of her lost house; cursed Ren, who she didn’t believe in, and cursed Niima’s villagers for worshiping him.

The scent of roasting fowl soothed her nerves, and she watched as Ben attempted to pull up pieces of underbrush with spotty success. By the time the birds were cooked, he had collected a fair amount and made himself a decent enough sleeping pallet by the foot of the stone outcropping.

“I said I couldn’t promise you supper,” Rey reminded him, as she pried a crispy wing off one of the birds. Ben huffed. “I don’t think I can spare it. Besides, if you’re hungry, you’ll leave earlier come morning. Then I can get to rebuilding my house in peace.”

“I don’t need your food, anyway,” Ben muttered, and Rey looked him up and down; as she’d thought, he didn’t have any supplies on him. And again, he didn’t strike her as the type who went hungry often.

“Suit yourself,” she replied, and sunk her teeth into the thick meat along the bird’s ribs.

At first, Ben seemed genuinely disinterested, staring up at the sky as though waiting for it to speak. But his stomach’s complaints were audible even from where Rey sat, and eventually he glanced down quizzically.

_Hasn’t he even felt_ _hunger before?_ Rey thought, and took another bite of her meal. But, as Ben began to pace restlessly, her own memories of hunger got the better of her. She wasn’t about to share her hard-won bounty with some volcano, but a human was a different story—this _Ben_ person was a different story.

“Fine!” she called, and Ben jumped. She motioned crossly to the spot across the fire, where he’d been sitting before. “If you’re going to be so pathetic about it, come on. Sit down.”

Ben almost looked like he’d refuse, then heeded her. He sunk down cautiously into a crouch, and Rey snapped her skewer in half. She handed him the yet-untouched bird.

“I could eat both. But you’re just so... sad and sulky, over there. So have it.”

Ben sniffed curiously at the charred woodland creature, and Rey almost laughed at his clear confusion. _He must_ _come from a wealthy house, then,_ she thought, _wealthy even by Niima standards._ But she could see a glimmering strand of saliva on his chin, and returned to her own meal. _He’ll work up his nerve sooner or later._

A stifled groan made Rey glance up. She smiled. Sooner, then—he’d sunk his teeth into the bird, his eyes closed, a stupidly blissful look on his face, like he’d never tasted anything as delicious. Upon finding it too hot, he panted lightly to cool the inside of his mouth, but that didn’t seem to dampen his enjoyment. Rey supposed hunger could turn anything into a delicacy, even if he was used to far better fare.

Hunger could also make moods sour, and Rey found herself softening to her unexpected company as she ate. The sky darkened, and in the starlight he wasn’t  _ so _ terrible to look at. If nothing else, the way he picked at the bird’s bones appealed to the scavenger Rey once was.

“Get some rest,” she said, standing. “In the morning, I’ll help you get back to wherever it is you came from.”

Ben looked up. “You will?”

Rey nodded, then said again, “So get some sleep. I’ll expect you to keep up with  _ my  _ pace.”

Ben blinked. “I wasn’t—I don’t need to sleep.”

Then it was Rey’s turn to be confused. She motioned to the bedding. “What? Why that, then?”

“That’s for you. I wasn’t planning to—” A tremendous yawn cut Ben off, and when it ended he looked downright befuddled.

Almost laughing, not quite, but tempted to, Rey went over to him; she nudged his ribs with one foot. “I don’t know what you’re on about, but go—there’s a nook up in the rock where I’ll sleep. Go on. Get!”

Ben rose; stumbled, slightly, and obeyed her. Rey watched as he lowered himself, experimentally, onto the bedding. He yawned again, which made his brow knit in consternation. Within moments of lying properly down, though, Rey could tell he had dropped off into sound sleep.

Satisfied, Rey clambered lightly up into the stone outcropping. Several of the larger crevices had gathered a lining of plant life over the prosperous years, and Rey settled into the soft confines of one such alcove. The height lent her a sense of safety; Niima wasn’t an especially dangerous place, in any case.

_ Except the religious fanaticism and the occasional volcanic fissure... _ Rey thought, as she drifted off. The last thing she saw, behind her eyelids, was Ben dragging himself up out of that disastrous fissure, his hair alive with sparks. Then she sleep swallowed her, and she did not dream.

... ... ...

Dawn found Ben still fast asleep. Rey didn’t bother to wake him as she scattered the remains of their campfire, then dug a canteen out of her backpack.

_ But how the hell did he end up in that fissure? _ she wondered, watching his broad chest rise and fall.  _ He should be badly injured, if nothing else.  _ She also allowed herself to consider, for the first time, what it would mean if he didn’t have anywhere to go back to.  _ It’s not just a matter of  _ how  _ he ended up there, but  _ why _. _

Ben stirred on his own not long after; he sat up, perplexed, and rubbed at his face. He ran a hand through thick black locks, then looked up at Rey.

“Morning?”

She tilted her head. “Good morning.”

He seemed to consider that, then replied, haltingly, “Good morning.”

“Well?” Rey asked, shouldering her staff. “Ready to go?”

Ben scrambled up, falling into obedient step behind her. Reaching a decision, Rey set off toward Niima.

“You’ll be rewarded for your help, you know,” Ben said abruptly.

Rey snorted. “I do fine. I’m not looking for anything, least of all from you.”

Ben looked offended. “I mean it.”

“I don’t care.”

Ben came up beside her, almost glaring down. “Everyone seeks my favor.”

“Good for you,” Rey replied, and remembered the apple in her backpack. After a moment of consideration, she fetched it out; sliced into it with a small knife. Ben’s gaze had fallen to the ground, fixed and perturbed. He didn’t look up until Rey offered half of the ruby-skinned fruit. “Have some.”

Ben took it; sniffed it, then held it up to the light. When he bit into it with a sharp  _ crunch _ , his eyes widened. “It’s—sweet! Thank you.”

“No problem,” Rey replied, and thought, _Maybe you’ll talk more sense_ _if you aren’t half-starved,_ but didn’t hold out much hope.

The sky was a startling blue above the verdant tree-tops; Rey spared some attention to appreciate it. Niima, despite its annoyances, was a truly beautiful place. Ben, once he’d lapped the last of the apple juice from his fingers, seemed rapt by their surroundings. He glanced over at every lyrical bird-call, and exclaimed like a delighted child when a small wild-cat scurried across their path. Without meaning to, Rey began to reassess her theories.

_If he does_ _come from Niima, has he really never been this deep into the forest before?_ She’d heard that the wilds around Naboo were nothing like this—they had swamplands instead of dense forest. _But if he’s from Naboo, then how in the blazes did he get_ here _?_

“I’ve never seen you, before,” Ben said suddenly, startling her from her thoughts. “Are you from Niima?”

“No,” Rey replied, and wondered where he got the audacity to question her when he hadn’t revealed his own origins. “I’ve lived here the past few years, though.”

Ben frowned before repeating thoughtfully, “I’ve never seen you,” and then returned to his business of examining the forest around them.

Rey huffed. “What about you? I’ve never seen you around, either. Are you saying you’re from Niima after all?”

“It’s not where I’m from so much as it’s where I  _ am _ ,” Ben replied.

Rey’s face scrunched. “Pardon?”

“Never mind,” Ben said, dejected. A dark note of anger crept into his voice. “I’m not there now, so it hardly matters.”

“Not where?” Rey pressed, and got no reply. Lacking the motivation to press, Rey returned her gaze upward. She’d heard stories of twins who ruled the sky—the brother in the daytime and his sister at night. The Skywalkers, people called them. Preposterous, really. Tales fit for children's bedtimes and precious little else. 

The outskirts of Niima came into sight not long after, and Rey realized with a slight shock why she’d noticed the sky’s clarity: there was no visible smoke. Niima was an overturned anthill of activity, all centered around the fact that Ren seemed to have fallen mysteriously asleep. Though Rey placed no spiritual significance on the volcano, she had to admit to a deep sense of unease stirred by such an unthinkable state of affairs. She glanced at Ben, hoping his reaction might lend her some insight into him, but came up short when she saw the look of embittered satisfaction on his face.

“You there! Rey!”

Rey glanced over; the merchant she’d sold her wares to the day before was bustling toward them, red-faced. Rey mentally steeled herself for an unpleasant interaction.

“Morning. What’s going on?”

“That’s what we’d all like to know!” the merchant huffed, gesturing unhelpfully toward the deep crack in the ground. “Since that, Ren’s been silent.”

“What even was that?” Rey asked, indicating the fissure. “I’ll have you know it swallowed up my house.”

“Your house?” another Niima resident asked, her tone wary. “Why  _ your  _ house, heathen?”

“Accident,” Ben scoffed, and Rey glanced at him. None of the others now clustering around seemed to hear.

“She’s the only one who didn’t give Ren the proper respect,” one old lady said, eyes narrowed. “Who else would He direct His wrath towards?”

“You don’t think she’s the reason He’s gone silent, do you?”

“We’ve been allowing her to live near us, despite her impiety.”

“And look! Ren destroyed her house before He went silent!”

Rey glared—a harsh narrowing of eyes, bordering on predatory; she wasn’t unused to such things, but was also in no mood. “You’re all as stupid as always. Volcanoes go dormant sometimes—it happens.”

“But why your house, then?” another villager demanded. “No one else’s house was damaged by these—these things!”

“Dumb luck,” Rey snapped, but the members of the crowd—mob, perhaps—seemed less than convinced. Without thinking, Rey stepped between the villagers and Ben before beginning to inch cautiously back towards the tree-line.

“You’ve brought Ren’s anger upon us!” one old woman shrieked, and suddenly the crowd’s voices rose to match hers. “With your defiance! With your heathen ways!”

Rey calculated the distance back to the trees—once among them, she’d have a chance of outmaneuvering them. Out in the open, though, they’d smother her with superior numbers. And if she wanted any chance of returning to some semblance of her peaceful, civilized, _nice_ little life, she couldn’t afford to fight her way out. She wasn’t within a safe dash to the forest—she needed to buy time, but couldn’t think of anything that would make them so much as pause.

And then Ben stepped out around her.

“Rey has nothing to do with  _ that _ ,” he said, gesturing towards Ren. He glared around as though he had some authority over Niima’s angry residents, as though he might fight anyone who challenged him. “Idiots. That’s  _ gods’  _ business.” 

Sheer surprise hushed the crowd for a moment—hushed Rey, as well. But then voices rose again, faces reddened, tempers sparked in furious eyes. Rey considered making her dash for the woods under cover of Ben’s distraction, but instead—without meaning to, and cursing herself as soon as she did—reached out to grab Ben’s sleeve.

“Now might be a time to stop talking,” she hissed, and Ben glanced down.

“Why? I’m telling the truth.”

Rey spared a second for exasperation. “Doesn’t matter right now.”

Ben peered at her, deciding whether to be angry or not. An expertly aimed stone interrupted him, striking the back of his head.

“Begone, heathens!” an old woman shrieked.

“Ren clearly doesn’t want you here!” another, younger voice added.

“Go on!”

“Get out!”

“Begone!”

Ben rounded on the crowd, looking profoundly offended—which, predictably, did little but incite them. Rey spied more rocks and sticks clutched in hands; every fiber in her body went taught, flight instinct flaring red-hot.

“Now would be the time to run,” she told Ben, releasing his sleeve and backing up step by deliberate step.

“Why?” he growled. “They wouldn’t—” 

A much heavier stone stuck his shoulder, and he staggered. That was all it took for Rey to bolt, although she called, “Ben!” over her shoulder. He hesitated, but the advancing crowd spurred him into motion. Rey was quicker, dashing for the tree-line, but Ben closed the gap with his long stride. Rey, huffing, pushed harder to stay just a few breaths ahead.

Niima’s residents gave chase, anger and fear overwhelming the mob’s singular mind. As Rey, Ben on her heels, bounded into the forest’s trailing undergrowth, they followed—though Rey swerved and ducked around trees, mildly surprised by how well Ben shadowed her movements, their pursuers kept doggedly after them. The foliage thinned out the crowd, stripping away the elderly or unfit, but several rock-and-stick-wielding aggressors persisted.

_ They’re really going to chase us out, _ Rey thought, her heart sinking.  _ Out, out into... _

“Come on,” she called to Ben, grim. “I know where they won’t follow.”

She didn’t look to see—didn’t care, really—if he heeded her, simply angled her sprint toward the west. Her body responded faithfully, though she could feel the old fatigue returning—the sensation of running endlessly despite the lack of any destination.

A glimmer of red caught her eye through the trees, and she realized they were racing along parallel to the fissure that had claimed her house. Bitter sadness rose in her throat, and for a moment she itched to seize her staff. She craved a fierce, bitter fight with those who would exile her. She’d made a life for herself here; she wouldn’t so easily be chased off. Unconsciously, she slowed. If they caught her, then she’d have no choice but to—

A flash of movement to her left made her look over, and she stumbled: a lithe figure had leaped from the fissure, what looked to be a harvesting scythe in-hand. A second, sturdier figure clambered out behind the first.

Ben gave a jubilant laugh beside her, startling her again. She glanced over to see a brilliant grin on his face. Then, before she could avoid it, he grabbed her hand.

“Hey—!”

“Come on!” he said, pulling her along. “They’ll cover us!”

“ _ Who  _ will  _ what _ ?!” Rey began, but was beginning to run short of breath. She put on a burst of speed, if only to keep her shoulder from being wrenched by Ben’s grip. The sounds of fighting erupted behind them an instant later, and Rey heard the Niima residents’ shouts of surprise and outrage.

Gradually, as the sounds of conflict faded behind them, Ben dropped back and released her hand. Reluctantly, Rey led him toward the forest’s western edge. The trees thinned, and she slowed to a brisk walk; Ben, unquestioning, fell in beside her.

“Where are we headed?” he asked, glancing back at the distant outline of Ren against the sky. The sun had risen nearly to its zenith.

“Where they won’t follow,” Rey replied, sullen. “Where they would never go.”

The trees grew scarcer and scraggly, fertile soil giving way to looser, dry earth. Shade, too, became patchy; Rey zig-zagged to avoid the heat of the noon sun, although Ben kept to a straighter line. It grew hot.

“The desert?” Ben guessed, eventually.

“Jakku,” Rey replied, feeling the name dry and bitter on her tongue.

“Why?”

“I told you: they won’t follow us.”

“That’s nowhere to live.”

“I know.”

Ben frowned, but didn’t question her again. By the time they emerged into the open, shifting sands, the sun had begun to slide back down the arc of the sky.

Rey felt a terrible heaviness in each step. She’d left Jakku by this same pathway, rejoicing in the forest as it surrounded her, as it welcomed her. She’d dropped down, digging her fingers into the cool, rich soil. She’d wept. And now—

“We can’t stay out here,” Ben said, jarring her from her reminiscing. Again he was gazing back toward Ren, one hand up to shade his eyes. “I can’t. I don’t... belong here.”

“Well, I do,” Rey growled, embittered by the admission.

Ben glanced at her. “No, you don’t.”

His simple denial made her anger flare up, crackling as it consumed the dry kindling of bitterness. “You can stop following me any time!” she snapped. “This is my desert—you just go back to wherever you came from!”

Ben flinched. “I would if I could, trust me.”

Rey shook her head, exasperated, and then stalked off.

Ben, despite her, kept pace. “They called you a heathen. Why?”

“Because I don’t worship some lump of burning rock.” 

Ben looked stung. “No wonder.”

“What?”

“No wonder I don’t recognize you.”

“Excuse me?” Rey asked. “They treated you like a stranger, even more than me. Why the hell would you recognize me?”

“Never mind,” Ben muttered, sounding angry now. “You don’t understand.”

“Stop following me,” Rey growled. “I’m done with your gibberish.”

“You just don’t understand!” Ben repeated.

“You’re mad!” Rey replied, and quickened her pace.

Ben followed, overtaking her in a few long strides and blocking her path. “So that’s it? You’re just going to run off into the desert? There’s nothing out here. You’ll be... alone.”

“I’ll make due,” Rey snapped, swerving around him. “I’ve done it before. I’ll be fine now.”

Ben had the audacity to look sad; Rey scowled at him. “That’s it, then?” he asked.

“That’s it. Over and done,” she said, walking briskly off.

For a moment, she thought he’d simply watch her go, staring after her like an abandoned child. But then he began, slowly, to trail along behind her. He kept his distance. With a furious exhale, she vowed to ignore him as she headed into the Jakku desert.


	3. Chapter 3

Ben kept after her, despite the heat, despite the desolation that crowded in around them.

Rey had to admire his stubbornness, although she bet it was born of desperation more than anything else.

_ He defended you, back there,  _ some small part of her said. It wasn’t something she could remember happening before, ever: someone taking her side. Even if Ben’s motives were inscrutable, his words typically those of a madman, he put himself between her and Niima’s furious villagers.

_ Probably didn’t even notice the danger,  _ she thought, and glanced back. She saw the heat-fatigue in the way her trailing shadow moved.  _ Idiot.  _

Ben started lagging more as sunset approached; Rey felt the distance between them stretching, and by the time she glanced back he had fallen considerably behind. She smirked, although she too felt the tax of Jakku deep in her own bones.

_ If he can't even manage to start a fire in Niima, he'd never make it out here. Better he realize that. Better he turn back. _ That would leave her alone again, as he’d pointed out, and that notion ached deep in her chest. But she dismissed it, turned, and focused once again on  _ ahead _ . If the faded maps in her memory served, there would be a small spring amid some rocks up ahead—not a proper oasis, but some sparse plant life and a fresh water source, at least. In the heat of the day, the rocks provided some meager shade, if one could curl up tightly enough.

One thing she had to give Jakku was its beautiful sunsets. The sky turned all vibrant hues of red and orange as the sun reached the horizon, reminding Rey of Ren's molten innards. She scoffed and picked up the pace a bit.

The rocky basin was relatively close to where she remembered it being, and she hoped the spring hadn't dried up in the years since she'd been there. She doubted she would make it much farther if it had, although she couldn't quite bring herself to be concerned. Some part of her had always suspected she would die in Jakku.

But when she came to the edge of the incline, the bright green patches of flora told her water was still present. She exhaled slowly, thinking she should be relieved but feeling nothing. And, glancing over her shoulder, she saw nothing across the expanse of dusk-shadowed desert.

Half-scrambling, half-sliding down the embankment, she landed at the bottom with a soft puff of sand. The spring flowed, clean and faintly cool, between the stones on one side, and she knelt; drank. Perhaps thirst, she thought, could be blamed for the depressive shroud that had draped itself around her shoulders. She knew that wasn't exactly true, but water would at least help.

She set, then, obligatorily, to fixing a suitable spot to sleep. Though death was inevitable, survival was too deeply ingrained in her to yet ignore.  _ That's something I'll have to work on,  _ she thought grimly, even as she catalogued desert fauna that would make suitable prey and planned out what sorts of traps to start building, come morning.

She wondered if Ben had turned back, or if he'd stumbled and fallen and died somewhere out in the desert. She convinced herself she didn't care, even as she contemplated backtracking to search for him. If she found his body, at least that would be closure. _And if he's still alive?_ she asked herself, irritated. _What then? Will you_ drag _him here, try to nurse him, probably lose him anyway? You wouldn't have the heart to just leave him, if he was still breathing._ She would wait, then, a few days, until he would certainly be dead, before she went looking.

Rey jumped at a clatter of stones behind her, and swiveled. She felt her mouth open as Ben, his black clothes torn and turned dark grey by dust, came clamboring down the embankment. He landed heavily, clumsily, and then collapsed onto his knees.

“I hate this,” he wheezed, and Rey could only guess at what, out of dozens of possibilities, he was referring to. He pushed himself up, stumbling over to the spring and then dropping down to drink.

“I didn't say you could do that.” Rey wondered why that was the first thing she said—there were many other things she could have. But the scavenger wanted to lay claim to its territory, and back in Jakku she was once again only the scavenger.

Ben shot her a baleful glance, but otherwise didn't respond. He certainly didn't seem threatened, and she supposed she hadn't really  _ tried  _ to sound hostile. She let him drink.

“Why did you follow me?” she asked, once he'd caught his breath. He ran a hand through his hair, and his bangs—damp with sweat, crusted with sand—stayed stuck to the top of his head.

“You’d be alone, if I didn’t,” he said, and she blinked. “And besides, you said you'd help me get back. And I said I'd reward you, for your help. We both have our words to keep.” 

Rey blinked, but forced herself to scoff. “I'd say the situation's changed, just a tad.”

Ben's brow furrowed, and he looked down. Rey almost smiled—it was cute, when he tried to think hard about something. His bangs were starting to unflatten, but only insofar as standing straight up.

“Fine, stick around!” she said, louder than was necessary; he jumped. “You won't like it, though, out here.”

“We aren't staying out here.” Ben shook his head. “No. No way. We have to go back.”

“Last time I checked, that wasn't an option,” Rey replied. “Unless you want to fight that mob. Way more of them than of us. They’ll run us out again. Or kill us.”

“Damn them!” Ben shouted, so suddenly that Rey startled. “They don't know anything— _ you _ don't even know anything!” He started to get up, then seemed to decide it wasn't worth the effort and plopped back down and buried his face in his hands. “Stupid Luke.”

_Here we go with this Luke person again,_ Rey thought, and chewed her lip. Ben was still quite mad—probably a liability. But it was too late now to chase him off, at least for the night. _You'll never chase him off,_ some small, bitter part of her taunted. _You're soft on him. Liability or otherwise, you'll let him stay. It'll cost you. Maybe cost you your life, out here. Jakku's no place for compassion._

But if it cost her her life, what of it? Life didn't have much value at that point, anyway.

“Listen,” she said at last, arms folding across her chest when he looked up. “Get some sleep tonight. You'll be thinking clearer in the morning. I'll show you how to set traps, for game.”

Ben looked about to object, but then shut his mouth and nodded. That was progress.

... ... ...

Rey slept lightly, aware of both the need for rest and the presence of a relative stranger.

The moon—full, or nearly—had turned the desert to grayscale when she woke. She blinked, trying to identify what had woken her.

_ Ben's voice. _

It was faint—he'd climbed back up the opposite side of the basin, and was kneeling at the top with his back to her. Though she briefly considered shrugging and going back to sleep, curiosity got the better of Rey. She rose quietly into a crouch, creeping across the sandy floor toward him.

She made out a soft, “... I, I know...!” as his voice rose, and then it dropped again. She reached the embankment, then, leaning upwards against the sun-warmed stones. “I know. But this isn't fair! If he wanted to teach me a lesson, couldn't he have just, you know,  _ taught  _ me? I'm always asking him to teach me things, and he never does!”

He paused, as though listening to some inaudible reply.  _ Nutty as a fruitcake,  _ Rey thought, and tested out a foothold. When it held, she pulled herself up along the wall, still silent as a stalking predator.

“Okay, but at least tell me how to get back,” Ben said dolefully. “No, he didn't tell me! See? He’s not being fair, not even giving me a chance.”

_ Here's your chance to bash him over the head with a rock,  _ that small, feral voice whispered helpfully, and Rey shushed it. She was almost at the top of the ridge, and still couldn't detect any presence save for Ben's.

“She said she'd help me,” Ben said, and Rey stiffened. “Yeah. I trust her, Mother.”

_ You really shouldn't,  _ was Rey's first thought, followed quickly by, _ Mother? _ Unable to reign in her curiosity any longer, she popped her head up and asked, “Who are you talking to?”

Ben jumped; turned. True to Rey's prediction, he was alone. But he smiled when he met her gaze, and replied, “My mother.”

Rey tilted her head; said, with exaggerated confusion, “Oh? I don't see anyone around. Where could she be hiding?”

But Ben shook his head. “She's not hiding.” Then he gestured upward, tipped his head back, and said, “This is my mother.”

The moonlight was kind to Ben—painted in silver, Rey would almost call him attractive. But at the same time he'd never looked quite so mad, on his knees there in the sand, his eyes as brightly fevered as the moon itself, hand extended toward the sky.

Still, Rey found herself smiling. “Really. The sky. Is your mother. How nice.”

Ben glanced at her, a bit wounded. “Really,” he echoed, and sounded rendingly sincere.

“Come back to bed,” Rey said, as a warm breeze swirled around them. “Get some sleep. Quality sleep. It'll be a long day, tomorrow.”

But Ben didn't move, even as the breeze picked up. Rey lifted a hand to shelter her eyes, but Ben raised his head and got to his feet.

“C'mon, idiot,” Rey said, hunkering further down into the ground. “If this is the start of a sandstorm, you don't want to be caught in it. Come down here.”

But Ben shook his head, and pointed. Rey peered out, thinking she must be seeing some mirage of the sand-clouded air. The moonlight had grown concentrated in a singular spot, a shaft of brilliance seeming to descend from the very summit of the night sky. As Rey watched, unconsciously pulling herself up on the edge of the basin, it began to solidify; grew less transparent, and gained form.

“No,” Rey heard herself whisper, and then again: “No bleeding way...”

Silver fabric swished, casting off any clinging sand, and a woman hovered just above the surface of the desert; her feet touched down a moment later, and the light faded around her. Her hair, silver threads spun in among dark grey, was tied up in buns on each side of her head. Her body, though aged, moved with grace and divine dignity; her eyes were ancient, bottomless pools filled with wisdom and shadow and arching light. Rey found she couldn't move, rapt, utterly starstruck.

Ben had no such problem, hurrying forward and throwing his arms around the woman. She huffed, putting on a good-natured show of staggering, and patted his shoulder. “How did you end up such a hopeless mama's boy?” she asked, although the answer was in the affection overflowing her voice. Still, she only let him cling for a moment before pushing him back, and her tone was critical when she said, “You look as much a mess as your father.” 

“They chased me out of Niima!” Ben said. “My own people!”

“Well, they can't be expected to recognize you,” the woman replied, brushing off his tattered clothes. “Cut them some slack. They thought they were doing right by you.”

“But—” Ben began, and the woman cut him off.

“It's a good thing Luke made it so you couldn’t talk about what happened. They probably would've really killed you, if you'd told them the truth.” She ran her fingers briskly through his hair, scattering sand and grime and making him whine with discomfort. “Humans don't take kindly to truths that they can't understand.”

She turned, then, and Rey felt her gaze like static across every inch of her skin. It occurred to her to run, to flee, but no feral instinct could overcome the paralysis that this strange woman had inflicted.

Still, there was no perceptible threat as the woman came forward, saying, “As for this particular human, this girl...”

“Rey,” Ben supplied, trotting at the woman's heel. “Her name is Rey.”

“Rey.” The woman knelt. Rey saw a faint shimmer of starlight leaking out from her skin and clothing and hair and eyes. “Call me Leia. I'm Ren's mother.”

Rey nodded faintly. “So he said,” she mumbled, and then it struck her. “Did you say  _ Ben’s  _ mother?”

“Ben,” Leia said, “and Ren. One in the same.”

Ben, behind her, had come alive—nodding, pacing and ecstatic. “Tell her, Mother! Please!”

“I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet,” Leia said, and offered her hand. Rey looked at it warily, but then allowed the strange, shimmery woman to pull her up onto the ground-level. Leia’s hand felt like flesh and blood, soft and even lightly calloused. “Then again, you don’t believe in any of us, do you?”

“Uncle Luke!” Ben prompted impatiently, pacing like a frustrated animal.

Leia obliged him. “Ben’s Uncle Luke, my twin brother, thought my son needed to be taught a lesson. He probably did. So he cast  _ Ben  _ out of  _ Ren _ —my son’s father is human, you see, so he’s as much human as he is god.”

“He didn’t even tell me how to fix it,” Ben added, anger seething up in his voice. “And made it so I couldn’t explain any of it to anyone.”

“Ren has gone dormant because he isn’t there—he’s here, in Ben,” Leia continued. “And I do think Luke went a bit far, not explaining the rules of his little game.”

_ Twins... the Day and Night Skies...  _ The legends came to the forefront of Rey’s mind, although she’d never heard the deities assigned first names. They were both only called— “The Skywalkers...” 

Leia nodded. “I’m the Night Sky, Leia Skywalker. My brother, Luke, is the Day Sky.”

“Grandmother lives in Naboo,” Ben added helpfully.

“ _ Grandmother _ thinks I should just let you figure this out for yourself,” Leia said. “She and Grandfather both think I coddle you too much, and I’m starting to see their point.”

With how Ben pouted, Rey found herself inclined to agree, too.

“Regardless,” Leia said, and turned back to Rey. “Ben tells me you’ve agreed to help him get back to where he belongs?”

Rey swallowed, the gravity of the situation catching up with her. “I... this isn’t exactly what I thought I was getting into, I mean...”

Leia nodded. “No one’s going to smite you if you back out now. It’s nothing you should ever have gotten involved in, to begin with, especially given your proclivities.”

“Proclivities?” Rey echoed, more insulted than was strictly reasonable. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“I mean your lack of belief,” Leia said, with neither hostility nor gentleness.

“I've always gotten on just fine without it,” Rey snapped.

“I know,” Leia replied, with Ben hovering worriedly at her shoulder. “And the gods aren't nearly as spiteful as our faithful like to claim. We carry no ill-will for non-believers.”

“Except maybe Grandfather,” Ben added helpfully.

Leia shrugged. “Grandfather is from a different era—he complains, but even he knows this is no day and age for raining hellfire down from the sky.”

“Grandfather is the most powerful of any of us,” Ben told Rey, in an ardent rush. “One day, I’ll be as powerful as he is. I’ll bring back those days, the era that Mom’s talking about.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” Leia said patiently, and Rey sensed it was a well-worn argument.

“I could!” Ben insisted.

“But you won’t.” Leia’s tone signaled the final word. “See? This is why Luke thought you needed to walk around in mortal flesh for a little while.”

“Mortal flesh is the worst,” Ben proclaimed, kicking at a pile of sand.

“You  _ are  _ half mortal,” Leia said. “Show your father some respect.”

“Even father isn’t completely mortal, not now,” Ben countered.

“He was when I bore you,” Leia said, and Ben grimaced. “And if you don’t want me to recount that splendid night, you’ll drop the subject.”

“Dropping the subject,” Ben said, holding up both hands.

Leia, with a clicking of her tongue, turned back to Rey. “Well?”

Rey blinked, having lost the thread of conversation for a moment. “Huh?”

“My son says you’ve pledged your help. The choice is yours, though.”

“Rey?” Ben’s eyes were hopeful. He looked no different from when he’d appeared out of the desert—sand-crusted, ragged, faintly dehydrated,  _ human _ .

_ Of course, _ Rey thought, gazing into the rich-soil-recently-overturned brown of his eyes.  _ You want me to help you. I said I would. That was my mistake. That’s why you’ve stuck so stubbornly with me. _

But something about that didn’t sound right.

“I’ll do it.” Rey heard the words before she’d decided to say them, and she followed up hastily: “I’m holding you to your word, too. You said you’d reward me. I want my house back, when this is all over.”

“I’ll make sure you have the finest house in Niima, when this is over,” Ben vowed.

Something deep inside Rey rebelled at that, and she shook her head. “No. No, I want  _ my  _ house—the one I worked for, the one I built with no human’s help and no god’s favor. It was your nonsense that wrecked it, so I just want it returned.”

Ben wilted a bit, at that, and glanced at his mother. But Leia was nodding.

“A fine request, Rey of Nowhere.”

Rey nodded once, resolute, and asked, “What do I have to do?”

“Ben needs to reenter Ren—he needs to become a sacrifice,” Leia said. “Those are the terms Luke set. Then he can reclaim his place.”

“As a sacrifice—so just leap into the volcano itself?” Rey asked.

“With the proper mindset,” Leia said. “A sacrifice, to himself and the people of Niima.”

“Those same people will do everything they can to keep us from getting close to that volcano,” Rey pointed out. “And I’ll bet they’re all over it right now, trying to get Ren to wake up.”

“My Knights helped us,” Ben said, to Leia. “Were they also cast out?”

“Who are the Knights?” Rey asked. “Were those the two who helped us?” 

“The Knights of Ren are Ben’s attendants,” Leai said. “ Luke’s declaration didn’t affect them, no. But they followed you out of their own volition, though the fissures. Only Ushar stayed behind, to guard the mountain.”

“They’ll help us, then,” Ben said, with certainty. “And once I’m restored, it should be simple to draw then back in.”

“I’ll provide a diversion, at sunrise,” Leia said. Turning, she touched her son’s cheek, and he leaned into her hand. “That’s all I can do. It isn’t much, but it should be some help.”

“Thank you, Mother,” Ben murmured, and then looked expectantly over at Rey.

Though feeling awkward, she said, “Thanks, Lady Skywalker.”


	4. Chapter 4

Rey didn’t sleep again. Even after Leia Skywalker departed, she lay awake and wondered over the proven existence of gods. As much as she liked to think otherwise—and genuinely didn’t plan to change her general approach to life—the revelation had shaken her.

_ The gods are real. _

And then she looked over at Ben, sleeping soundly with his broad back towards her. He still looked human, chest rising and falling with breath, hair clumped with sweat and sand, occasionally snuffling in his sleep. She wondered if he really was only interested in her help, or if there’d been some small truth to what he had said.

_ “Why did you follow me?” _

_ “You’d be alone, if I didn’t.” _

Rey had always been alone—since she could remember. In some ways, Ben’s consistent company was more jarring than the revelation that he was the volcano god she’d scorned for so long.

_ I... am alone. I’m nothing, no one to anyone. Right?  _

Ben’s breath was soft and steady. Even in the arid desert, even several meters away, he seemed to radiate warmth.

Rey smirked.  _ He’d be miserable out here, if he really runs that hot. _

She wondered how different his body heat would feel if she pressed against him. Kinder than the sun-warmed sand, perhaps. In the frigid desert-winter nights, it would be downright divine.

Rey roused Ben several hours before dawn, and they started back in Niima’s direction. They kept a brisk pace in the relative cool of pre-dawn, and by the time the horizon began to lighten they were among trees. Ben kept glancing skyward, and Rey wondered what his mother’s promised distraction would be.

An arc of pale blue lightning flickered across the horizon, and Ben ducked his head.

“It’s starting.” He cut sideways through the trees, toward the gaping wound in the earth that had claimed Rey’s house. She fell in close beside him.

“What? What’s your mother going to do?”

Ben gave a faint smile. “She’s going to start an argument.”

Rey knew, instinctually, that a fight with Leia Skywalker was something no one sought, and rarely a thing to be won. As more blue flashes lit up the dark grey of the morning sky, she kept her head low and ran close beside Ben.

Ben scrambled to a halt at the edge of the fissure—near where Rey’s house had been, she realized with a twinge of stale bitterness. He crouched; called, “Vicrul? Trudgen?” down toward the sluggish lava. It had cooled, as the days passed, a black crust beginning to form across its surface. “Ap’lek? Cardo? Kuruk?”

There was no answer, nor movement from along the fissure’s bottom. Rey said, “We have to keep moving.”

Ben’s face was a mask of concern. “What if something’s happened to them?” he murmured, and then rested his forehead in one hand. “They left the mountain to follow  _ me _ . If something’s happened to them...”

“Then that’s just something you’ll have to live with,” Rey replied, skirting past him toward Niima. She started when a hand clawed at the edge of the fissure, entirely too near her feet for comfort.

“Lord Ren...” the figure rasped, and Ben rose, hurried over, and stooped beside Rey’s feet. Rey took a shuffling step backwards. The figure—roughly man-shaped, though made of cracked volcanic rock and molten stone—hauled itself further out of the fissure. “You’ve returned.”

“Of course, Vicrul,” Ben replied, and helped the Knight stand. “My mother told me how to get things back to the way they should be.”

“Your mother is merciful,” the Knight, Vicrul, said. “How can we help?”

“Niima’s residents don’t recognize me,” Ben said. “They’ll try stop us from climbing the side of the mountain. We need to reach the top, where sacrifices are made.” 

Vicrul nodded. “We’ll assist you however we can, Lord Ren, with whatever time we have left.”

“Don’t say that,” Ben pleaded.

Vicrul turned to Rey. “And you? You’ll see him to the top, while we delay the people of Niima?”

Rey blinked, surprised by the intensity of the burning-coal eyes locked with hers. She swallowed. “Yes.”

Vicrul nodded, once. “Good. I’ll rally the others. We’ll make for Niima beside you, Lord Ren.”

“I’ll see you soon, Vicrul,” Ben said, laying a hand on the Knight’s shoulder. Vicrul dipped his head, then dropped back down into the fissure.

Ben seemed more focused, more urgent as they hurried toward Niima. Rey could hear the faint scrapes and cracks and scuff of footsteps from within the fissure beside them. Leia’s distraction built to something resembling pale fireworks against the lightening sky, and rumbles of thunder were angry voices as the twins argued. Again Rey ducked her head, instinctively. The birds and woodland fauna that filled Niima’s woods had fallen still, sheltered in nests and dens and burrows.

“We’ll follow the fissure all the way up,” Ben said, when they reached the tree line. The streets of Niima looked deserted, but Rey knew better than to trust such things. “That way the Knights can support us, if need be.”

That would take them directly up one of Niima’s main roads—a virtual parade for anyone who might be looking for them. But recalling the god’s loyal attendant, clearly weakened but committed, and seeing the bright flicker of hope in Ben’s eyes, Rey found herself nodding.

“We’ll have to be quick, then,” she said, and bolted forward without waiting.

Ben jumped, then dashed after her with a soft shout of, “Rey! Wait up!”

Rey didn’t wait—she ran, for all she was worth. She knew Ben, with his damnably long legs, could keep pace; knew he was just complaining. But with all that was at stake, she somehow knew he’d rather trot through Niima at a fool’s leisure—he thought they’d be unopposed in the storm.

Rey knew better.

Despite the early hour, and despite Leia’s foreboding storm, faces peered out eagerly through windows. And, when Rey raced by with Ben on her heels, zealots emerged from hiding. Shouts of alarm rose, and priests were called, and furious human voices echoed the thunder of gods’ arguments. Rey kept her focus on Ben’s harried footsteps, behind her. She didn’t listen to the insults flung like stones, the calls to protect Ren from the heathens. Then she ignored the physical stones thrown at them, too. Swerving through the marketplace, she spotted the base of Ren itself—didn’t let her eyes drift to anything save for that goal.

A man appeared out of nowhere, wielding a farming tool. Rey ducked the wild swing he made for her head, but heard Ben’s alarmed shout as the weapon carried on straight for him. She stumbled, momentum broken, and then gasped as Ben’s full weight slammed into her. They tumbled to the green-carpeted foot of the mountain, tangled, breathless, and Rey scrambled to get out from under him. When she managed to turn, she saw a figure—a black silhouette, flaking ash and cinders—fixed between them and Niima, a cleaver up and blocking that crude farming instrument.

“Go!” the figure grunted, voice roughened by heat and exertion.

Ben’s body leaned towards his attendant; in his dark eyes smoldered a fight. Rey grabbed his hand, felt it flesh-and-blood in her grasp, and pulled him back towards the slope of the mountain.

“Ben!”

He responded, following her urging and flinging himself up the rocky pathway. Around the other side of Ren a wide, easy road had been carved out for ritual processions and worship, but this route was merely a game-trail. Yet it followed the fissure, and so it was the path they took. Rey’s legs began to ache as she drove up the narrow path, at times scrambling hand-over-hand up small embankments. Ben kept close to her, the jagged fissure on his other side, Knights appearing whenever their pursuit came close enough to threaten them. Ren’s summit was within sight.

Rey knew better.

“They’ll cut us off at the top,” she gasped out, scrambling over a fallen stone. Ben looked at her in surprise. “There are too few of them, following. Some will have looped around, up the main road. They’ll be waiting for us.”

“What’ll we do?”

“You’ll have to just make a run for it,” Rey said, and then heard herself say, “I’ll keep their attention as long as I can. They hate me. They’ll come after me.”

“You can’t!” Ben’s force surprised her, so much so that she almost slipped. Her hands, she realized, were scratched bloody. “They’ll kill you!”

“I can take care of myself,” Rey replied, although she knew the danger that the Niima mob presented. She didn’t think they’d actually kill her, though a small voice argued that, yes, they very well might, and even if they didn’t it would be a far from pleasant experience. She shut her eyes for a moment, thinking about her peaceful little house and the game traps she had set up in the woods and the clear-running river she fetched her water from and the nearby apple tree just bearing its autumn fruit.

“I know you can,” Ben said, and Rey felt herself fluster at the validation. “But that’s not the point, not this time.”

“What exactly is the point, then?” Rey snapped, and answered her own question: “The point is getting you back into your damned volcano, and this is the best way to go about it.”

“Rey!” Ben called an objection, but Rey launched herself up a particularly steep patch of mountain before he could say more.

_ You’ll be back in your stupid mountain, out of my hair.  _ She took a deep breath.  _ I’ll get my house back. And that’ll be that. That’s the only reason I’m helping, anyway. _

_ That’s the only reason I’m helping. _

The faint clamor hardly prepared her for the rabble that ringed the volcano’s mouth. The sound rose in pitch when she appeared, and then they were charging at her, brandishing farm tools and rocks and actual bladed weapons. She grabbed for the staff strapped to her back, knocking aside ill-aimed blows and ducking projectiles, working her way to the left to draw them to one side.

She heard the terror in their mingled voices, and their desperation in the suggestion that they sacrifice her to their slumbering god. She knew their motivations, and yet cursed them in her native tongue with all the spite she could muster.

_ They mean to do it, _ she thought, backing up against the edge of the cliff. She didn’t dare give Ben away with a glance, although she ached to see him make a safe dive back into the volcano’s depths. She kept the mob back through sheer tenacity, snarling like a cornered beast and whipping the staff about as if to impale anyone who made a move. But they’d see through her bluster in a moment, she knew—she couldn’t evade or defend against them all. Two, maybe three would fall, if they rushed her, but then they would have her. A fatalistic sort of satisfaction settled heavily on her shoulders, and she thought,  _ Ren will be restored. And I’ll die. _

_ What a lot of good that house will do me, now... _

“Rey!”

Rey froze, her grip on her staff tightening as if to snap the well-worn wood. The mob, too, faltered and turned as one, and in doing so opened a pathway for her to see.

“Ben!” She answered without realizing, and then flushed. She made a frantic shooing motion. “Go,  _ go _ !”

“Not without you.” Foolhardy, handsome Ben extended a hand, and Rey nearly screamed at the sheer absurdity of it. The mob still swelled between them, momentarily stunned but still volatile, libel now to kill them both.

But that didn’t matter, because Rey wasn’t alone. Staring at Ben, realizing that his hand was extended for her, purposefully, knowingly, and  _ only for her _ , she ran to him. It was a mad, ungainly shove-and-scramble through the crowd, but she managed it. Her hand found his, staff still clutched in the other, and he drew her in close. She stumbled, and he bolstered her easily.

“Come on,” he whispered, sounding for all the world like a giddy child.

It was then that Rey realized where they were headed—what they were running towards, with the whole of Niima pressing in behind them. As soon as Ben reentered the volcano, it would come alive—the air within its crater would burn her to a blackened skeleton, never mind the lava itself.

“Trust me,” Ben urged.

_ I trust you, I trust you, _ Rey thought, with all the force of her will, despite the fact that every nerve in her body crackled with primal fear and every instinct screamed at her to break off. But she tightened her grip on Ben’s hand, instead, and thought:  _ I trust you! _

As her feet left the ground, she thought,  _ What kind of life was I living, anyhow? Nothing half as worthwhile as this. _

She felt ecstasy rolling off Ben in waves as the smoldering air enveloped them, and Rey struggled to breathe; the smoke billowing up around them made it a difficult chore. They slowed, as they fell—Ben landed first, on the cracked surface of hardened lava, and moved to swoop Rey into his arms before she could touch down. His body surpassed the temperature around them, burning against her, and Rey almost whimpered for him to let her down, consequences of that be damned. There was no pain, though, only the discomfort of stifling heat and a decided lack of oxygen.

Six shapes swarmed around them, shapes of charcoal and fire—the Knights of Ren, reignited. Ben’s hair, too, was speckled with glowing embers, as it had been the first time Rey saw him.

“Rey.” His fingers brushed along her face, his fingers leaving trails of ash in their wake. “Stay with me.”

She coughed; labored for the breath to say, “Where else would I go? You broke my house, remember?”

He smiled, a wry but brilliant flashing of teeth. “Be with me,” he murmured, and his voice resonated through the rocky crater that towered around them. He leaned in, gaze bright as it flickered between her eyes and her panting, parted lips. He waited, poised, open, hopeful.

She moved willfully, her mouth meeting his, the kiss burning and desperate and clumsy and lovely. Flames tore an agonizing path down her throat, not unlike the violent fissure that had swallowed up her whole meaningless life. She gasped against him, feeling as though her skin might combust—as if the fire would consume her and leave only charred bones.

It subsided. The cool that followed started as a tingling across her skin, then sank deeper into her flesh, coiling around muscle and bone. She shivered, relief washing over her like clear water. Even memories of Jakku’s unforgiving sands were quenched.

“Rey.”

Rey opened her eyes, realizing for the first time that they’d been shut. Ben gazed at her, glowing from within himself, a smile playing like firelight across his face. For the first time, she saw him as he was: a god dripping embers like precious stones, a divine force behind a dazzling, handsome human face—and yet, still just Ben. He let her down to stand, but kept her tucked close against his own body.

“You won’t ever be alone again,” he said. 

Rey felt them sinking; she glanced down, and was unfazed to see their feet slipping beneath the luminous orange surface of molten stone. Any pain had long ceased, and Ben’s presence was solid and steadying.

“Is this okay?” Ben whispered, face pressed into her hair. The earnestly uncertain quaver in his voice nearly made Rey laugh. “I could just still restore your house, if you’d rather.”

Rey shook her head; burrowed into his chest. The lava was weighty, comfortable, as it enveloped them up to the waist.

“A home here with you is much better,” she said, and felt his embrace tighten.

Sparks fizzled up where the volcano admitted them both, and Rey felt all her weariness burned away, rising off her like so much smoke. She breathed deeply, Ren’s aura filling her lungs as well as surrounding her.

_ The first sacrifice I’ve ever made to Ren... _ she realized, smiling,  _ my own flesh. _

It would be the last she made, too—gods had no reason to make sacrifices to one another. That convention, though, did nothing to stop Ben from offering her the best of everything he had.


	5. Epilogue

“So this is the girl, eh?”

Rey blinked. She’d expected the Day Sky to look a bit less... grizzled. His grey hair stuck out in all directions, and his beard was unkempt; though his eyes shone with the depth and wisdom of ages, they also glinted a bit mad. As he leaned in close, peering at her, she shifted uncomfortably.

“Her name is Rey,” Leia informed her brother, shouldering him aside. Ignoring Luke’s objection, she addressed Rey. “Adjusting alright? My idiot son hasn’t messed anything up yet?”

Rey smiled. “No. No, Ben’s been... wonderful.” 

“You see?” Luke crowed, waving a hand theatrically. “The boy learned! I meant for him to figure out that there were things more important than himself, and here he learned it!” 

Leia gave him a sideways glance, eyebrow arched. “Really? All according to plan? I still think you were just upset about him setting fire to your temple.”

“Well, he really should have a good enough mastery of his powers that he doesn’t accidentally set things on fire,” Luke argued. “My temple or otherwise.”

“ _ You _ told him to heat the tea.”

“He should’ve been able to keep the flame small.”

Rey’s smile grew. Leia had already become dear to her, and she could imagine Luke getting there. At sunrise and sunset the twins coexisted; now the horizon was tinted dusty pink with dawn, the first rays of sunlight stealing past the horizon. Already Leia's graceful form was turning faintly translucent as she and her brother carried on their argument.

“Rey!”

Rey swiveled at the call—smiled, before she could stop herself. She trotted to meet him as Ben scrambled up onto the edge of the volcano called Ren. She didn't notice the Skywalker twins fall silent, nor what had made them do so. Leia smiled, amused, as Luke stared quizzically at the ground.

“What's that supposed to be?” he asked at last, motioning.

“Isn't it obvious?” Leia replied, stooping to more closely examine the flowers and vibrant green saplings that had sprung to life in Rey's footsteps. Rey reached Ben, several yards away, and stretched up to kiss him. He looped an arm around her; pulled her close. “A volcano makes the soil fertile. That's why Niima is the way it is. Rey is just... the catalyst, to make life really flourish.”

“Huh.” Luke tilted his head, watching the two of them. “She’s a nature spirit, then? Something like that?”

Leia shrugged, brushing herself off as she straightened. “Who knows? Nothing quite like we've seen, that's for sure.”

“Hmf. Well, as long as your kid's happy, I guess.”

“I think they're both very happy,” Leia said, as Ben lifted Rey effortlessly. Rey, not one to submit, struggled against him, and together they stumbled and tipped and tumbled back into the volcano's waiting chasm. Leia laughed, dissipating with the coming day, and was entirely gone before the sound had faded.

... ... ...

The sides of Ren's crater were covered in green. The foliage reached all the way to the very edge of the lava, seeming to defy every law of nature by not wilting or outright igniting. The devout citizens of Niima called it a miracle. They spoke of a girl, a convert, who sacrificed herself to awaken Ren when He'd gone dormant, and told of the wildflowers and greenery as a testament to her devotion. They proclaimed her a saint.

It was all terribly amusing to Rey from Nowhere, and she bore it in good humor.

Ben thought they were right, on all accounts—He worshiped her, too.


End file.
